שליח
by Stuck in Lodi
Summary: Castiel has dealt with God's messenger time and again, and she always comes back time and again. Loosely connected stories of situations that are not mentioned in canon episodes.
1. Chapter 1

This is Stuck in Lodi here, with my very first Supernatural fanfic ever. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Since everything I really have to say is at the end, I'm just gonna get right to it!

But first-

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Supernatural, but I think you're intelligent enough to realize that already, so yeah.

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מַדְרִיך

 **Hebrew** ; Noun

 _One that is a guide, instructor, and teacher._

* * *

 _Chapter Summary:_

 _"The rumor is, he talks to God."_

 _In which Castiel is informed of Josuah's conversations with God._

 _Set in Season 5, between **"My Bloody Valentine"** and **"Dark Side of the Moon".**_

* * *

Castiel closes his eyes, threading his fingers together as he breathes in deeply.

Earth was a place rich in sounds and smells that seemed to dull in the memories that people recollected in their heavens. Nothing smelled quite like the sea, felt quiet like the wind brushing up against his cheeks, or the soft melody of birds in the distance. That said, there was also nothing quite like the people that he had encountered on Earth in Heaven either. No angel could match a human's wit, a human's wonder, or a human's ability to persevere when dire circumstances ended up road blocking their paths.

Castiel admired that in particular.

He taps his foot, humming tunes that sounded nothing but discordant, while he closed his eyes.

The wind smells of daffodils and petrichor, both things that he enjoyed greatly, and Castiel sat, watching, waiting, and Castiel did his job, which was something that he hadn't the opportunity to do it a very long time. He had always been watching, waiting, observing how the universe spun in beautifully choreographed chaos according to his Father's Will, making comparisons of the mistakes that human's repeat over and over, observing their grief, their joy, their sorrow.

Castiel was a soldier, of course, but he was perhaps not like any of his Brothers and Sisters. Castiel was a Watcher. The others were Fighters, Castiel was one too, a Fighter that is, in his own right, but he was also a Watcher, and, perhaps due to the arrogant forgetfulness of his brethren, was overlooked as one of the few observers of the unraveling of cosmic events.

He knows they forget, thank Heaven they do, because Castiel enjoys being underestimated. He also knows while they had smited and destroyed in the earthly endeavors cited in the Old Testement and Tohran, he had looked down from Paradise and noted their wrath, their strengths, and their weaknesses from above. Castiel knows things, things the other know not about him, and he also knows that's what makes him so dangerous.

Funny enough, Castiel didn't feel very dangerous. He couldn't find God; and as Gabriel-Gabriel-had pointed out after his fun and games with the Winchesters, it was actually going quite terribly. It was demoralizing, even for Castiel, who was used to agonizing slow progress. He puts his head in his hands, and sighs, just slightly. After the brush with Famine, he's going searching again and...nothing.

There Castiel was, watching the ocean from a bench next to a boardwalk, somewhere in North Carolina. He slouches his shoulders forward, breathing in the salty brine hesitantly. He feels a touch at his shoulder, and the energy in the air builds into a tempestuous thrumming of electricity as he turns, his eyes widening as they fall upon the lithe figure of a young woman, tanned and dark, with piercing olive eyes and spiraling black hair.

"Hadraniel," He murmurs, breathless and awestruck by the imposing figure of two wings-wings that were black as night, and whose primary feathers slowing faded from grey to white in a stunning display of color-, stretched and fluffed as if to welcome a lost one home. These wings splayed across the entirety of sidewalk behind him, and above stood the form of a great looming pillar of light. "Hadraniel."

The girl smiles, her eyes flashing a bright, pupiless blue as she rounds the corner of the bench. She seats herself beside Castiel, her body shifted as to face him, eyebrows raised and enquisitive. Castiel feels his stomach churn, and his vessel's hair stand on end as she touches his arm, tiny bolts of lightning jutting up his spine as she quirks her lips into a half-smile.

" _Qafsiel_." She laughs, soft and sad as she sighs, speaking Hebrew as if it were as easy as breathing, and to her, it probably was. " _Oh, Qafsiel, you go by many names in this millennium, therefore I must wonder by which you wish to be addressed, my brother._ "

Castiel recalls Hadraniel with great clarity.

Hadraniel and his great fear of Father, Hadraniel and his reluctantence of guiding Moses, Handraniel and his voice of twelve thousand flashes of lightning.

Hadraniel and his disappearing from the ranks of Heaven.

Hadraniel, who was thought to be dead, rogue, or worse- _fallen_.

"I have not answered to that name in many centuries. Castiel would be most prudent." He replies, in English.

"Indeed." Hadraniel murmurs back quietly, lips drawn thinly as she- _he_?-closes her- _his_?-eyes as if in pain. "Castiel, then." The angel laughs a brittle laugh, eyes opening as she- _she_ , Castiel decided. It would make things run much smoother-ran a hand through her noir locks. "Castiel, you know of the Truth, I assume? Since you've come to this place, and you demonstrate your sorrow so?"

"The truth?" He questions, blue eyes wide as he white knuckles the burning amulet in one of the many folds and pockets of his tan trench coat.

She laughs, shaking her head. "The Truth, Castiel. The Truth which you have been seeking. The Truth which the...shall we say... _overseers_ of Heaven, have insidiously, and quite cleverly, might I add, kept from you and the others for so long." She tucks her chin to her chest contemplatively, pulling a stray spiral of hair behind her ear. "You already know God's still alive Castiel, but since you have yet to see with your own eyes, you doubt. You have every reason to. I don't blame you, but your faithlessness is concerning, you understand?"

He could barely breathe, must less _understand_. There, before him, was one of the most legendary angels of all time, standing there, telling him God was alive, that God was _somewhere_ , but couldn't be found. It was madness.

 _Madness_.

Castiel forgets that Hadraniel is a creation of epic, legendary status, and perhaps that's why he's startled when she starts speaking, as if knowning his woes.

"Castiel, my brother, the world is positively insane at the moment, you and I, we both know this; I believe you should consider my message a, well, ah, a _heaven sent_ , if you will." Hadraniel thrums her fingers against her thighs. "God wishes, Castiel, that you give up the search. I, on the other hand, believe you will find God, whether He wills it or not. If you would believe it, I'd tell you the two of us are very vocal about the matter, but He refuses to present Himself to you and your, uh, friends."

"God is close though, Hadraniel. If I could just-if _you_ could just _help me_..."

"That is because, brother, if you would open your ears and remove the splits from your eyes, I am currently aware of our Father's whereabouts. Your talisman burns because the Grace of God is most certainly in and around my presence."

Hadraniel closes her eyes, pursing her lips worriedly as she tilted her head back.

"I cannot tell you were our Father is, He has forbidden it, but at the very least, I can point you to the direction of someone that might be willing to answer your questions. Granted, of course, that Father has shared what he has with me to this Brother of our's."

Castiel feels his lips turn up into a grimace, a sneer, and he looks away sharply, as if struck. "If Father does not wish to be found, why to you point me to another source? Why do you disobey him? Do you doubt as well? Tell me, Hadraniel, why? Why did he leave? Why does he do this?"

She chuckles bitterly, clenching her fists. "Castiel, you ask such pertinent questions. Questions that I have neither the knowledge nor authority to answer." She says, smiling ruefully, "Brother, you of all should know that God works in _mysterious_ ways. If I didn't know any better, I would percieve you as Doubting Thomas himself." She stands, dusting dirt off her tailbone. "Castiel, I'd say that you almost sounded _human_."

The blue eyed angel stares at her, lips pressed thinly as he brings his clasps hands to the crevice between his bottom lip and chin. "Is that considered a grievance of sort? An insult, perhaps?"

Hadraniel laughs, clear and melodious, throwing her head back in her great amusement. "Oh, I believe it might be quite the opposite." She steps forward and cups his face affectionately, giving him a kiss on his brow before releasing him.

"Joshua, my Brother, will maybe be able to give you what you seek, or, at the very least, provide some much desired answers. I know that what you really want is an explanation, but I have none, and hopefully Joshua has been more favorable in Father's eyes."

"I cannot enter Heaven." Castiel informs laconically before feeling the need to elaborate. "I am an outcast, a rebel; how, _how_ pray tell, am I to make contact with Joshua when I cannot take two solitary step before looking over my shoulder?"

The olive eyed angel clears her throat, gesturing at the pocket in which he had the amulet tucked away. "Those Winchesters, they have an uncanny ability of dying, don't you agree?"

Castiel's eyes widen, a fraction of an inch, and he lurches forward with surprise, becore his brow creases, and his lips turn up into a snarl of sorts. "No." He snaps, quick and blunt and angry. "No. The Winchesters will not be used as mediators. Not in Heaven. Not with Zachariah."

"Goodness, you misunderstand me-" Hadraniel cringes slightly, wrinkling her nose. "All I am saying is that those boy are destined to die; and died they have, and die they will again. Understand me when I say Castiel, the Winchesters will die, but their deaths, being impermanent, are somewhat of use, no?"

"No." He grunts, low and surly.

"You and your stubbornness of an ass. I must say that that particular quality has always perturbed me, but be it known that Father still cares for you, and for the others deeply, ass-like stubborness aside." Hadraniel paused, peering at him with soulful eyes. "The others, you realize, are unaware of the Truth. Castiel."

Castiel's features harden once more, his expression ridged and stoney before he queries, "And what do I do about the others exactly, Hadraniel? What do I tell them, should I be forced to take up arms against a member of the flock and they ask questions of my rebellion? What do you propose?"

Hadraniel spreads her hands, nodding her head forward.

"' _Beloved, believe not every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are of God: because many false prophets have gone out into the world'_."

Castiel tilts his head, taken a back. "Hadraniel, that does not answer my question-all you've done is spoken Scripture that is completely irrelevant to my question-"

"Ye of little faith!" She scolds, wagging a finger at him. "Is it not said to instruct the ignorant, Castiel? You must show them, the ignorant, that not all our Brethren are in compliance of Father's Will. I do believe it would be most wise to convey your discoveries. Perhaps even explain the situation that is really at hand."

"Brother, that is still-"

"-I am not your superior, Castiel, and I will not give you orders. What I give you is advice; whether you heed it or not is of your own decision."

"Hadraniel-"

"Enough has been said, and I must take my leave. Goodbye, Castiel. Godspeed my brother, Godspeed."

She disappears in flutter of wingsand a clap of thunder, the sky illuminating with strikes of lightning. Castiel observes the goosebumps on his skin as the shadow that had been cast upon the land from Hadraniel's immense stature vanished from sight.

* * *

 _Uh, so, since I just got into Supernatural recently, I decided to make up some one-shot, drabble sort of writing to see if I could find a place in the fandom. I thought this up while rewatching the series, and if some people like it enough to comment and follow and favorite and stuff like that, I think I might add some more effort into the idea._

 _Thanks for reading, and if you have the time, please drop in a review!_

 _Until Next Time,_

 _Stuck in Lodi_


	2. Chapter 2

Stuck in Lodi here with another addition to this weird thing that I've made up in my head. I decided to take this by Hadraniel's point of view, and since I haven't explained how I came up with this character, I'll elaborate at the end.

Shout outs to the Guest the reviewed and the lovely peeps that Faved and Followed this story!

Hope you enjoy!

 **Disclaimer** : Still don't own Supernautral.

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פרוקסי

 **Hebrew** ; _Noun_

 _Proxy: One appointed or authorized to act for another_

* * *

 _Chapter Summary:_

 _"Although I do believe He brought me back: new and improved."_

 _Castiel's a bit shaky on the details, but not wrong to say it was God that brought him back to life._

 _Set after Castiel gets blown to smithereens by Lucifer._ _Season 5: " **Swan Song".**_

* * *

Hadraniel waits.

She was following orders, of course, like she always did.

The olive eyed angel sits, amidst a flourishing meadow, with wildflowers shimmering in the wind in a spectacular display of color. She breathes in the air, crisp and fragrant as she peers intently at the spot in front of her.

He's there in a mirage of blurred hues; transparent at first, but then Castiel becomes more corporeal, the edges of his silhouette more defined and tangible. Hadraniel smiles, melancholy on her lips as she brings herself to her feet with only the slightest flutter of wings.

Her brother stares, disbelief in his shockingly blue eyes when she approaches him, putting a hand on his cheek before letting it retreat back to her side.

"I'm dead." He articulates as a look of understanding dawns on his face.

Hadraniel nods shortly, seeing no reason for her to be round about concerning the matter. "That you are." She replies, silvery and express.

" _Dead_." He grounds out, unamusement clear in his tone as he frowns and looks at the ground with a deeply furrowed brow.

"Yes, Castiel, I do believe we've covered this." She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose while shaking her head. "Those Winchesters seem to have influenced you a bit. A shame."

Castiel's mouth twitches, but he wisely stays silent as she motions for him to walk with her. His shoulders tense, but he complies, taking to her left and matching her stride as the scenery slowly bleed from the images of vivacious fauna into towering pine trees that extended to the clouds, casting their shadows upon her brother and she. Hadraniel flicks her wrist, allowing a small orb of fire to throw light upon their path as they strolled.

"You are taking this well."

Castiel shakes his head, and presses his lips together almost as tightly as his voice sounded.

"I believe Dean would call what I am currently experiencing 'freaking out'."

She barks out a laugh, and snaps her fingers. The roots of a particularly tall pine, gnarled and ancient, twist their way out the ground, shaking rich brown earth out as they contorted into something that resembled crude bench. Hadraniel smiles as Castiel's eyes widen considerably, and she approached the seat. After she dusts off the dirt, the woman sits, and Castiel follows.

Hadraniel enjoyed sitting down for important discussions. It made a conversation more...urgent, in her esteemed opinion. She ruffles her hair, ruefully glancing at her brother as he tilted his head at her, in that sullen, questioning way of his.

"God," She beings, noting the cringe Castiel produces at the mentioning, "Is under the impression that you should be brought back to life."

Her brother opens his mouth, anger flickering in his eye momentarily before it died, and all that she could percieve was a profound lack of caring.

"I am under the impression that what's dead should stay dead." He quips back wryly, weariness in his tone as he gave her a shrewd look.

Hadraniel snorts. "Except the Winchesters."

"Except the Winchesters." He agrees dutifully, nodding with upturned eyebrows.

"Castiel," She sighs, exasperatedly. "You and those Winchesters." Hadraniel pauses, tugging at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Speaking of Winchesters."

Blue eyes pierce her with daggers of azure, and she can feel nothing but compassion for her brother at that moment, despite his rather ungrateful attitude. "You know what has happened then?"

"More like I'm aware of what will happen." Hadraniel sighs, running a hair through her sable hair, averting her eyes once more. It was odd, for her to be so guilty, so _regretful_. Hadraniel was unaccustomed to such things, even after her long adaptation to the way things were went about on the terrestrial plane. She was millions upon billions years old, but the feeling in her chest was unlike anything she had felt before. It was different than when Lucifer had fallen; different from the moment her Father glanced at her with sad, sad eyes and told her he just couldn't bear it any longer; different from the bubbling annoyance that Moses, of all people, was able to get out of her.

Hadraniel understands, perhaps because of Moses, the pain. She had charges. She got attached.

But not like Castiel- _nothing like Castiel._

It was _different_.

The way he looked at her with those sullen, melancholy eyes was just different.

"I...see."

She shakes her head. "No. No, you don't see Castiel, because if you did, you'd understand that I do not want this to be how it ends. Not with another beginning-I hate new beginnings. Especially the one Father is giving to you." Hadraniel breathes in a shaky breath, and a brittle laugh escapes her throat. "Why can't these things be simple?"

"You won't tell me what has happened to them, then?" Castiel asserts, effectively destroying any mood that she had tried to set upon the atmosphere.

"Ha!" She scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. "Can you not think about yourself, Castiel? Honestly-"

"Do they live?"

"Yes, they live. Somewhat." Hadraniel sighs. "But we are here to talk of your resurrection."

"My resurrection." He parrots.

" _Castiel_ -"

"Forgive me. It seems this is important."

Hadraniel shakes her head, abstaining from rolling her eyes dramatically to the side.

"Father has left me with the responsibility of bringing you back to life, with the use of a bit of His Grace, and also of insuring that your powers are capable of operating separately from the sanctioning of Heaven. I'd rather not go into all the details; it is a long, awfully frustrating procedure and I honestly cannot fully explain the sequence of events that enables me to to this, but it works somehow or another." She drums her fingers against her thighs, nodding contently as a woodpecker in the distant mimics her rhythm. "Those are His only orders, but I think that you should be informed of the probability of absolute mayhem in Heaven."

"I really just want to go back and be of use, and Hadraniel, and if that means assisting Heaven in its time of need, then so be it. I haven't been much help much lately, and I think I should try and perhaps offer my services." Castiel fiddles with his fingers and Hadraniel contemplates the reply.

"I-" She hesitates, lurching forward slightly as the ground trembled from under her feet. Hadraniel blinks, alert and aware as she snaps to her feet. "We don't have much time left; this universe I created is temporary, and it won't hold for much longer. Castiel, before you go- you, well, you won't remember much of what's happened here, but consider your options-please, don't get dragged into anything, and don't make me worry, because I do, and take care of yourself-no more dying. Please?"

Castiel gives her a wry laugh, deep and gritty while nodding at her. "I'll do my best."

She smiles, as if in pain when she taps his forehead, watching as his form shimmers in a haze of molecules and colors before his image blurs completely. After a few seconds, Castiel dissipates into the multi-verse. It was often a misconception that powerful actions had powerful displays of ability-she knew that despite lack of fireworks that her brother was perhaps one of the most dangerous things on earth at the moment.

Hadraniel lingers as her small universe collapses upon itself; the trees crumble and the soil beneath her withers and dries until resembling a cracked, barren desert floor. The sky darkens, and she hears lighting flash in the distance. Fire springs to life at the bottoms of her feet, and Hadraniel knows that if it had been done, the apocalypse would've perhaps looked similar.

But, Hadraniel liked her trees, and the Earth, and she actually quite liked the idea of it being around for a bit longer.

 _Even if it were only for a bit longer._

The angel-who'd seen so much already, done so much, who just needed a _break_ -tilts her head up and lets herself fall, wind rushing past her face as her wings propel themselves with a single, tremendous down stroke, and Hadraniel lets the cosmos take her into its folds.

She leans on the kitchen counter as her Father adjusts His glasses while peering into His computer screen. Hadraniel doesn't say a word as the sounds of finger dashing against a keyboard filling the air. She doesn't dare breath when the typing stops, or when He breathes would a tiny sigh, or even when He leans back into his chair, motionless. Her Father doesn't acknowledge her. Not that she minded.

He disappears, slowly, like dandelions in the wind, leaving her to stare at the "The End" at the bottom of his screen.

Hadraniel knows where He is; God doesn't go very many places, you see, doesn't have anywhere to go really, but she feels a small, horrible feeling in her chest anyway.

She was doomed, perhaps, to stay with her Father, and have unshakeable faith, even when she didn't want to. Hadraniel wanted nothing more than to help Castiel, to help Heaven, _to go back home._

But she had orders.

And Hadraniel had the fear of God put in her long ago.

* * *

 _Alright, so Hadraniel is based off the Old Testement Angel, who, appearently, didn't want Moses to have the Tohran and made poor Moses cry because he was kinda scary. God didn't like this much, and Hadraniel decided to behave and act as a guide to Moses in the desert. According to the lore, Hadraniel, "is more than sixty myriads of parasangs (approximately 2.1 million miles) tall and a daunting figure to face." also "when Hadraniel proclaims the will of the Lord, his voice penetrates through 200,000 firmaments." And according to the Revelation of Moses, "with every word from his (Hadraniel's) mouth go forth 12,000 flashes of lightning." So, yeah, kind of a scary dude._

 _Now, with that out of the way, I wanted to ask you to review if you enjoyed! Reviews make me very happy!_

 _Until Next Time,_

 _Stuck in Lodi_


	3. Chapter 3

Here I am with more speculation! Did you miss me? I haven't been gone long, but I'm getting all fidgety cause I have a bunch of chapter ideas that need to be posted, but I realize I need to wait, so that sucks. But, I wanted to get this chapter up, and hopefully get some responses and stuff.

A big thanks to the people that have favorited and followed and reviewed! You guy are great!

 **Disclaimer** : Still don't own Supernatural

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 _מפעפע_

 _ **Hebrew** : Gerund Or Present Participle_

 _Seething; (of a person) be filled with intense, but unexpressed anger_

* * *

 _Chapter Summary:_

 _"In that confusion, a number of powerful weapons were stolen."_

 _Castiel's looking for his nukes, and draws perhaps a bit too much attention to himself._

 _Literally moments before Cas drops in on Sam and Dean in Season 6, " **The Third Man."**_

* * *

The clamor of metal on metal rips through the air like a piercing shriek, and flashes of silver dance and dangerous ballet, clashing of steel and panting of breath being the main source of entertainment. Shadowy blue eyes lock unto caramel brown ones, and hesitation lurks in the atmosphere.

Castiel tosses his dagger, changes his grip, and parries around his brother with terrifying grace. Within seconds, they stand, with Castiel's advesary pinned to the wall, blood trickling down his neck in eerie droplets.

"I want answers, Jael. _Now_." Castiel hisses under his breath, elongated silver dagger to the mentioned's throat.

His brother trembles under the cold touch of metal, knowing that Castiel wasn't afraid to plunge the weapon deep into his jugular at the slightest hostile motion.

"I don't-brother, someone took the Ark from me, I don't know where it is. I think-I think it was Balthazar, Castiel, _please_ -"

"Balthazar is dead, Jael. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Brother, I speak the truth, you must listen to-"

Slick as sin, Castiel flings Jael aside, face set in a ridge mien as his eyes darted to the steel doorway. With only the barest of looks toward his unconscious, bloody brother, Castiel turns his body into the direction of the only exit. He flings the blood off his dagger before placing it in an inner pocket of his trench coat, and starts for the door.

Castiel walks through the empty warehouse hallways, the only sound in them being the echoing of his footsteps on the concrete floors. He cringes as he steps into the daylight, blinking away from the harsh sunlight while throwing up an arm to shield his vision.

"What are you _doing_ , Castiel?"

In less than a second, he had his blade in arm, and Castiel lunges forward, instinct and danger in his eyes and the clattering of silver rings out. Hazel eyes greet him with lingering sadness, familiar and sorrowful as his lips curl up into an unconscious snarl.

" _Castiel_."

It takes him a moment; longer than he'd care to admit, but it was inevitable. He hadn't seen her in a year, since the incident, and she looked different with her vessel's short, boyish head of curls. Her calm eyes peer up at him over her sharp nose, and for the first time since meeting her again, he appreciated the humor of her vessel being so utterly small. He lowers his weapon, and she does the same, tucking it into one of the belt loops of her rather immodest shorts.

"Bearing arms against _me_ , of all angels." Hadraniel mutters to meet her breath. "Unbelievable." She looks to the ground, shaking her head. "This is ridiculous."

Castiel puffs air strongly out of his nose in bitter humor as he conceals his blade once again in the folds of his coat. "Not so ridiculous when there is in fact a _civil war_ raging." He sneers, eyebrows raised at Hadraniel mockingly. "Or having you forgotten while you and God go about whatever business you could possibly have in the wake of the apocalypse and the shadow of another?"

Hadraniel draws her vessel's form to full height-not impressive in the least. Castiel was tempted to mock her-something along the line of her vessel being too young to intimate him. As he does, the sky darkens, and a bolt of lightning rips through the sky, revealing the threatening image of her enormous wings fluffed and splayed, as if ready to swoop and kill.

"Don't you dare-" Hadraniel hisses, before lowering her voice abruptly. "Don't you dare think this has been easy for me. God has _forsaken_ me, Heaven is at war, and now it's come to my attention that you've a contract with the King of Hell. The _King_ of _Hell_ , Castiel. What possibly could've possessed you to think that entering a contract with the former King of Crossroads would be a good idea? For what reason could you have to team up with him in the first place? He's manipulative and foul and if you think you can outwit him, you are _wrong_."

"And what else could I have done?" Castiel challenges, puffing his chest out, and drawing out his wings out their their full length. "It isn't as if you or God were going to help me defeat Raphael. You also don't know me; you don't know anything. You don't know if I can or can't outsmart Crowley. You don't even know about the Weapons."

"Oh, I know about the weapons. I also know that Sam Winchester is alive. And that you've stopped overseeing the protection of Dean Winchester." The olive eyed angel crinkles her nose at him in disgust. _As if she had the right_. Castiel feels anger, real anger churn in his stomach. "Did you know that Raphael sent one of his henchmen to kill Dean?" Castiel is taken abruptly aback, eyes wide as Hadraniel continued. "Raguel got to your charge's doorstep, and I...I had to kill him. He wouldn't back down. Castiel, do you understand the obsurdity of this whole situation?"

Any gratitude that he would've felt is completely vacant as Castiel steels his nerves, willing himself to accept that he didn't have the resources to guard Dean 24/7, and if Hadraniel had taken that duty upon herself, then that was her problem. "Wasn't as if he was doing he job anyway." Castiel spats, blue eyes burning with uncharacteristic cruelty. "He deserved what he got for allying himself with the side that wishes for the End of Times. Just like Raphael deserves what he has coming."

Hadraniel gasps quietly, putting a hand to her chest, and takes a full step backwards. "Oh, you-Castiel, you don't mean that."

"But I do." He assures. "I do, and you can say whatever you wish, but this is war, and war is ugly and cruel and destructive."

Her lips tremble, and Castiel thinks it's possible the first time he's seen such vulnerability on her face. Hadraniel was a strong, legendary figure. To see such an angel's brow creased and face skewed was a rarity.

"Stop that. _Stop it_." She whispers, and her hands shake. "Castiel, you're all I have left, and you're not even _you_ anymore. Please come to your senses."

"You speak as if I've lost my mind." Castiel replies disdainfully.

"But you have!" Hadraniel cries out, her face twisting into a wild, utterly fearful look. "You're doing these-these _horrible_ , exploitative things and that's not you, Castiel. I'm not sure who it is exactly, but it's not you! You can fool your subordinates, and when the Winchesters come crying to you, you can fool them too, but not me! I know you too well. I _rebuilt_ you, Castiel, even if it was with the use of God's Grace, I'm still the one that put you back together. If you think you know Dean like the back of your hand after reassembling him, atom by atom, molecule by molecule, just imagine how well I know you." Her voice is passionate and brittle; Castiel knows that she's on the brink of tears.

He ponders the condensation gathering at her lashes, and after a moment of consideration, speaks. "Your tragic flaw, Hadraniel, might be that you simply _care_ too much."

Castiel moves to walk past her, but she turns on her heels, and grabs on his arm. Their eyes meet, and she shakes her head, eyebrows upturned and lips quivering pitifully.

"Don't do this." She pleads-begs, if he would dare suggest it. "You are not one for hubris, and turning your back on family doesn't suit you well either."

"It doesn't have to be like this; you could always join me-and you're very welcome to. I'm close to retrieving the Staff; I know you share a special connection with the Staff in particular, and your help would be appreciated."

" _You know I can't do that._ " Her voice is so soft that Castiel has to strain his ears to understand the soft Enochian that flutters off her tongue like bells in the wind.

"Of course you can't." He quips back bitterly. "Orders?"

Hadraniel lowers her head. "Morals. I have morals to adhere to, brother."

A shrewd smile worms it's way onto Castiel face at her reply. "Goodbye, Hadraniel."

"I would tell you to care of yourself, Castiel, but I know you'll do something foolish and cause me grief anyway." She releases his arm. "Goodbye."

Castiel disappears in a fluttering of wings, and his head rings with the echoing of Dean's voice. He knows that it's probably not the time to reveal himself to the Winchesters, but conversations with Hadraniel sucked whatever energy right out, and he honestly just needed to see a familiar face that wasn't solely there to lecture him. That, and the Staff.

But then again, as Castiel made his presence known, he realized that the brothers reaction would not exactly be the most favorable.

Dean opens his mouth, and Castiel feels that 'familiar face that wasn't there to solely lecture him' thing fly out the proverbial window. The angel holds in a sigh as he swiftly looks to and fro, Sam to Dean. They were always under the assumption that he did things for them out of the kindness of his heart; which he didn't understand. He makes this clear to the two, explaining the situation with the Staff. They seem shocked. Castiel knows, feels it in he bones, as he continues to elaborate, that he would see Hadraniel again-soon.

But he pushes that into the back of his mind.

He has Weapons to find and a war to win.

* * *

 _Alright, so you guys might be wondering about those two angels I mentioned above-Jael and Raguel. Well, you see Jael is the Cherub that guards the Ark of the Covenent, and since that things pretty legendary and old, and it's canon that Castiel wanted it, I think Jael would've been the first angel to be interrogated. Therefore, it'd be a reasonable stretch to say that Balthazar snatched it when he went to hide the Weapons. Next is Raguel. He's the guys that's supposed to watch over the behavior of other angels. As you can tell by Castiel's tone, and literally all of seasons 4, 5, and 6 , he really, really sucks at his job; therefore, Castiel's rather shitty attitude._

 _About Hadraniel's separation from God: I know, I know, just last chapter I said she knew where God was going and all. Then there's the stuff about Dean. Don't worry! I'll be posting some new chapters in Hadraniel's point of view to cover that mysterious one year period between seasons 5 and 6._

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this angsty chapter, and I really hope you come back for more!_

 _Until Next Time,_

 _Stuck In Lodi_


	4. Chapter 4

Okay! So, I experimented. I did and maybe it's probably not as good as I'd like it to be, but I just wanted to try out writing Dean's character. If you'd excuse the language. Please understand that I simply can't imagine a Dean that doesn't use every profane word in his vocabulary when taking to other adults. I don't know if it this is good or bad are just plain horrible, so if you'd just bear with me until the end...

Anyway, I'd like to thank the people that favorited, followed and reviewed! I really appreciate it.

 **Disclaimer** : Still don't own Supernatural.

* * *

 _חשד_

 _ **Hebrew** :Noun_

 _Suspicion; cautious distrust_

* * *

 _Chapter Summary:_

 _"You go find Lisa. You go live some normal, apple-pie life. Promise me, Dean."_

 _That's what Dean did for a year. He had his normal, apple-pie life. But even then, there was that probably, not entirely chance encounter with a girl that wasn't exactly human that made him wonder if he could ever really get out._

 _He knew the answer._

 _First scene is set four months after the events of " **Swan Song** " and the second scene is three months after the first. During the one year period before Season 6 " **Exile on Main St**."._

* * *

Dean Winchester wasn't a dumbass.

Alright, so maybe, occasionally, he was a dumbass, but he wasn't stupid either. He knew when something wasn't right, and he sure as hell knew when someone or _something_ was watching him. To reiterate, Dean Winchester was _not_ a dumbass. He just acted like one.

He glances over his shoulder, grocery bags in hand as he proceeded to up his pace into a jog. Hopefully, he wouldn't break the goddamn eggs this time around. Dean feels his shoulder tense, and his stomach somersaults its way into oblivion. He gives another tentative peek around his shoulder- _just in case, just in case, there were always mean sons of bitches out for him after all_ -and goes to turn his head back face forward, only to topple right into some short stack.

"Woah," He pauses, straightening his body out, setting his groceries down. He crouches down, expecting a youthful face with big, innocent eyes. What he's greeted with are olive orbs, soft and inquisitive, but with just enough edge to just _know_. "Are..." Dean hesitates as his eyes wander over the woman, curly black hair, long lashes, thin lips, and damn _that rack_. "Are you, uh, okay?"

Dean was in a happy, committed relationship. Dean was in a happy, committed relationship. Dean was... In a happy, committed fucking _relationship_. Fuck, he still couldn't get over the sheer weirdness of having a house and a girl and a kid and _shit_.

She tilts her head at him, pursing her lips and furrowing her eyebrows in mild confusion. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be? I am not made of glass, despite my stature."

That, Dean decides, was a weird answer, he but let's it slide as he offers his hand. The girl-woman-gives him a look that reminds him achingly of Sam with her hazel eyes, and she considers him for a moment before accepting. Dean hoists her up easily. She nods her head as an unspoken thank you, and dusts herself off, squaring her shoulders.

Dean gets a good look at how pint sized she really was. He'd always been good at judging appearances; how tall someone was, how much they weighed, how easy they could be to throw to the ground if need be.

The lady's 5'0 at least, 5'2 at the most, a hundred and twenty to a hundred and thirty pounds by the muscle in her arms and legs. Dean squints and shakes his head. He was a civilian, and he really didn't need to go around assessing people anymore, but- _but_ -it was also a goddamn useful force of habit if he did say so himself.

"Dean Campbell." He holds his hand out.

" _Oh_. Uh..." Her eyes light up with panic, and Dean can hear her breath hitch from where he stands. It's not weird, no, not at all, just fucking _suspicious_. Dean didn't do suspicious. "Hayden. Blum. Hayden Blum."

She shakes his hand hesitantly.

"So, _Hayden_ , what brings you to the area? Looking for a house?" Dean reaches down, and plucks up his bags with ease, eyeing the noir haired woman with veiled caution.

Hayden furrows her eyebrows together, looking at her feet as soon as Dean tried to catch her gaze. "Well, no. I am not looking for a place of dwelling especially. I...I suppose you could say I'm here to look after a friend of a friend."

"A friend of a friend?" He questions sceptically.

"Well, yes." The woman looks up, and locks eyes with Dean, as if she were genuinely confused as to his dubiety. "My _friend_ is a very busy, uh, man, you see. He _supposedly_ is engaged in some rather important business, and can't take it upon himself to visit his companion at all."

Dean snorts. "He sounds like a dick."

Hayden half-smiles at him, crinkling her nose up at him as if she knew something he didn't. "He is not a _dick_ , per say." She pauses. "A stubborn ass, maybe, but he means well. Just...a bit misguided at the moment." She pauses, brushing aside a handful of sable locks out of her face.

"Doesn't justify leavin' a friend." Dean says, unimpressed.

"He just doesn't want to ruin his, uh, b-buddy's," She stutters, as if uncomfortable with the word before moving on. "New life. He has a family, and I think Ca-Calvin wants to, uh, leave him be. But, I just..." Hayden hesitates for a real long time, biting at her bottom lip while she eyed Dean with uncertainty. "I think I should go. Pardon me."

The woman who rushes past him, ashen face and all. _Not suspicious at all_. Dean turns to let her go, and he watches as she hurried down the street with a careening gait that veered of to the left from time to time.

He doesn't particularly understand why she made his fingers twitch for something dangerous as she rambled down the road.

.

..

...

* * *

.

..

...

The next time Dean sees Hayden, who was surprisingly hard to forget, months later, she's sleeping under one of the park trees, haggard and all around shitty looking when he gets close enough to pass judgement. She's got bags under her eyes, more prominent than the last time, and he was almost positive that the purplish skin displaying itself on her forearms and peeking out from the collar of her shirt wasn't permanent marker. The black eye and split lip didn't do her any favors. Neither did the bloody knuckles.

"Hey." Dean tries not to be too loud, but the chick must've been a seriously light sleeper, because when he goes to crouch next to her and shake her shoulder, she's got his hand in a vice grip like nobody's business. Hayden stares straight at him, with eyes void of anything he'd call emotion in the traditional sense. Now, if there were an emotion for not having an emotion, that would've described her hazel soul searchers perfectly.

"Dean." She says, almost in a hushed whisper as she shifts her hand, which had been resting on her stomach before, to her side. Hayden wigged herself up into a more comfortable position against the tree, tensing and wincing from presumably unseeable wounds. "I would not have pegged you as the sort to interrupt a woman while she is thinking." Her eyes adopt a soft glimmer, and Dean felt himself relax slightly at the knowledge that she looked sort of, you know, human again.

' _If she even is human_ ', A tiny voice in the back of his head whispers dubiously.

"Oh, uh," Dean stands, averting his eyes sheepishly. "I thought you were sleeping. Sorry. Just, you know, there are creeps out here, even if this is a pretty sleepy town and I wanted to, uh, warn you."

Hayden tilts her head, and quirks her lips up at him in such a fleeting manner that Dean wasn't even sure if she had smiled in the first place. "That's very kind, but I assure you that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Sure you are. That lip just screams, _'Hey, don't fuck with me or I'll punch your face in_ '." Dean retorts bluntly, inwardly wincing at the sort of unintentional sarcasm that dripped into his words.

Hayden doesn't seem to mind, and actually screws her face up into a thoughtful look. She rolls her shoulders forward, and arches her back with a flash of pain her eyes before she struggles to her feet. The black haired woman touches her ribs tenderly, and if Dean had to guess, they were probably bruised.

"I suppose you make a valid point." Her voice is different than it was when they had first met. Raspy and tired and just ancient sounding. It gave Dean the chills. "It is not that I am unable to defend myself, it is merely that I was forced into an altercation of sorts. It was, to say the least, rather violent."

He resists the urge to hit something because of her cavalier attitude, and opts to thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Well, no shit, Sherlock." He waits a beat, assessing whether his snark had maybe irritated her, but continues at her unresponsiveness. "What happened to you exactly?"

Hayden bites out a bitter laugh, and she gnaws at her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes together as if merely remembering sent her over the edge. "Perhaps you recall my friend of a friend?"

Dean nods.

"Well, he was in...trouble, and I..." She trails off for a moment before finding her words again. "Got him out of it, simply put."

"Christ." He mutters. Now, Dean's almost expecting her to flinch. But she doesn't. Hayden gives him an odd look, and opens her mouth as if to say something, but then slowly shuts it, as if she'd decided it was a shitty idea.

"Your tone suggests that my actions were misconstrued."

"Fuck," Dean starts, rubbing a hand over his face roughly, "I mean, from what you told me last time, you don't even know the guy. Why get knocked around for him? It's not like you owe him anything. Shit, can't this son of a bitch take care of himself without you coverin' his ass?"

Hayden snorts. "He does not know I even exsist. I 'cover his ass' because he is important to someone who is important to me. That is entirely enough reason for me to want to keep him and his family safe."

"Sounds craptastic." Dean quips with an ever so slight sneer on his face. "So he can't even be grateful for you savin' his hide? Is that what you're tellin' me?"

She pulls a face and nods. "Essentially."

"That's messed up." Hayden stares at him, shock evident on her face as Dean ran a hand through his hair. "How're you holdin' up with all this? Beside's getting into a brawl." Dean's not sure what to think of her anymore. Hayden's not like anything he's ever seen; the archaic language and odd ticks were strange, and noticable. If she were any kind of monster, she'd try and achieve some semblance of normality, but it just wasn't entirely _there_. Then there was the possibility of her being an angel. Dean can't entirely dismiss it, but he's pretty sure that all angels were kind of arrogant dicks, and would just use their actual names. Hayden didn't exactly sound very angelic to him.

She lurches forward, mouth wide open and hesitantion clear on her face. "You...you sympathize when you barely even know me. You ask me why I do what I do. You question why my charge is left in the dark. You ask-" Hayden swallows thickly here,"You ask if I am well. I do not understand." The olive eyed woman shifts on her feet, discomfort flashing it's way onto her lips by form of frowning.

"Look, lady." Dean frowns back at her, crossing his arms."You remind me of someone. So, sue me if seeing you beat to hell makes wanna me ask a few questions."

Hayden looks down bash fully, color showing prominently on her cheeks. "Forgive me."

Dean looks at her like she's batshit crazy-and she probably is for all he knows. "What the hell you gotta be sorry for?"

"I am unused to attracting the concern of others." She rubs her thumb against her chin nervously. "It is...a strange concept for me. I am usually the one who does all the fretting. I apologize for causing you grief."

"'Apologize for causing you grief', what the actual hell-" Dean mutters, shaking his head, suspicion growing by the second. "Hayden, you know that it's, you know, _normal_ to worry about a beat up twenty-something year old girl, right? And that you don't exactly _talk_ like a twenty-something year old girl?"

"This ve-" She backtracks, frowning at him with distaste. "I am thirty-three, thank you very much; and if I do recall correctly, I am permitted to speak anyway I see fit."

Dean quiets, looking her up and down, and sudden realization dawns upon him.

Dean Winchester was not a dumbass. He pays attention. And he knew when something just wasn't right.

Hayden just wasn't _right_.

"What are you?"

Hayden stills, shaking her head. "I am huma-"

"Human, my _ass_." He snarls, taking a step forward. Hayden abruptly takes two steps back. " _What are you_?!"

She looks to the ground, and sighs a long, suffering sigh. "What I am-" She starts, "Is none of your concern. All you need to know is that I offer nothing but my help."

"You expect me to believe you're here to _help_?"

"Yes. I do." Hayden quips, a soft look going over her features as she brushed a stray lock away from her lips. "Because for all your faults, Dean Winchester, you are a reasonable man. A good man. Despite what you think of yourself."

"How do you know my name?" Dean attempts to close the distance between them, but believe it or not, Hayden was fast on her feet, bruised ribs or no. " _How do you know my name_?! What the _hell_ is going on?!"

"Those are most certainly questions to be answered at a later date." Hayden smiles. "Until then, please be aware that my only duty is to assist you. I merely..." She pauses, folding her arms contemplatively. "I merely wish that you would see me as an ally, and not an enemy. You have too many of those as is."

Dean doesn't move as she walks towards him, and he doesn't move even when she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Not that he would ever admit that it was comforting. She hums at him, hazel eyes weary and benevolent, and so much like Sam's that it physically _hurt_.

"Goodbye, Dean Winchester. Please take care of yourself. Goodness knows you deserve it."

She disappears in a whirlwind of leaves and color, and Dean isn't exactly sure what to think of the thing he had just spoken to.

Dean doesn't see her again until a long time later.

Maybe too long.

* * *

 _Alright, so this was way out of my comfort zone, but I decided to do a scene with Hadraniel and Dean interacting. I mean, since I thought up her looking out for Dean, I also want to impress that Hadraniel was likely to make mistakes. She hasn't had a charge this important for about 4,000 years, and she's bound to make some mistakes, right? But, since she's been on earth for so long, she would most certainly think different than the Angels that've confined themselves to observing humans from Heaven. Hence, the fake name._

 _If you'd be so kind as to review; I would absolutely love to hear your opinions._

 _Until Next Time,_

 _Stuck in Lodi_


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